


After

by clearascountryair



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship/Love, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lots of Hurt, a n g s t, canon compliant as of 4x15, really there's very little happy in here, reference suicide attempts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-14 22:58:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10545774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clearascountryair/pseuds/clearascountryair
Summary: All she can think about after the Framework is how she could have killed him before.All he can think about after the Framework is how he created the very thing that nearly destroyed it all.All they can think about after the Framework is how much the other deserves better.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry that this is the angstiest thing I've ever written, but thanks agentcalliope for beta-ing and memorizingthedigitsofpi for teaching me how to format this.
> 
> There are two planned follow-ups, neither of which will near the level of angst of this one.

**Day 1**  
When she wakes up, there's still blood caked under her fingernails and, before she can remind herself that it's not his, it's not real, a wave of nausea overcomes her and she leans over the side of the bed, vomiting on the floor. A nurse she neither knows nor cares to know places a hand on her back and says her name, but she doesn't want to hear it.  
"Fitz!"  
She tries to sit up, but the nurse holds her back. He tells her something but she doesn't listen. Someone else shouts her name and Daisy comes stumbling into the room. For the first time, Jemma's aware enough to know that the nurse is telling Daisy to go back to her own bed, but instead she wraps Jemma in her arms and for a moment, they just sit there and shake.  
It takes two hours to convince the nurse that the best place to be is with Fitz. So even when night falls, she sits on the side of his bed, knees pulled into her chest, wide eyes on him.  
|  |   
---|---|---  
|  |    
  
**Day 1**  
Somewhere, she calls his name.  
  
  
**Day 2**  
It hurts to keep her eyes open, but until she sees him awake, she won't let them shut. She sits and she waits, she waits and she sits.  
Daisy comes in from time to time, telling her as the rest wake. She leans down to kiss Jemma's cheek and take Fitz's hand.  
"Not enough to wake him," she says, and Jemma can feel the tremors through his body.  
"All bone," Daisy tells her, but Jemma only wraps her arms tighter around her knees.  
Bones and blood, blood and bones. Blood and steel and her nails have been cleaned but she can still feel his warmth--it's warmth, not his, but she has the knife and his thumb is crushing her airway.  
They're alone in the room when warm skin, his skin grazes her toe, and she looks down to watch his thumb stroke her foot.  
"Do you know me?" she asks, refusing at first to look at him. But when he doesn't respond she looks up at his face and the hurt and confusion frightens her. But then he moves just enough away from her, and turns his head to glance at the open space on the pillow beside him. She lies down, her nose grazing his. He holds her hands between them.  
"One day," he says, "you'll tell me what happened."  
She nods and shakes her head at the same time.  
|  |   
|  |  **Day 2**  
She's staring at the wall above his head and he takes a moment to just look at her. She looks tired and worried and there's a bruise on her neck from someone's hand. He bites the inside of his lip and draws his eyes to her feet. She's curled up next to him like a child. He's not sure yet if he's capable of words, so he strokes her foot. The skin is rough and maybe later he'll tease her for slacking on her moisturizing routine. Her body tenses and he wonders how long he's been gone.  
"Do you know me?" She asks.  
Nausea quells in his stomach. Certain he will vomit if he tries to speak, he moves over on the bed, to his side of the bed, and waits for her to lie beside him. But she's not the woman he said goodbye to, she's not the woman he told to be careful moments (hours? days? weeks?) ago. He's unsure if it's that she's aged or if she's regressed into a girl he once knew.  
But her nose presses against his and he reaches between them to hold her hands (his second set) between them.  
He wishes he could smile, and says to her, "One day, you'll tell me what happened."  
She trembles against him.   
**Day 4  
** Maybe it's seeing him back in their own bed. Seeing him back where he belongs.  
She's never seen his ribs before. She almost reaches out to run her fingers across them. Instead, she crawls into bed beside him. She wants him to hold her, and holds her breath until he does.  
"I love you," he says.  
She repeats his words and her voice breaks. He rolls to her, kissing her cheek and stroking her arm with his thumb. He props himself up on his elbow, hovering his face above her.  
"I'm sorry," he says, kissing her.  
She shakes her head. She just wants him to keep kissing her. His kisses are soft brushes against her skin, but she thrives for them. He kisses her lips, her nose, her eyes, her cheeks, her neck.  
She freezes.  
|  |   
|  |  **Day 4**  
He feels a changed below him. Her hands go slack on his back.  
"Jemma?"  
She doesn't say anything, so he raises his head. Her eyes are squeezed shut, tears leaking from the corners. Her whole body is tense. He runs a finger softly across the bruise on her neck.  
"Hold me."  
He almost doesn't hear her, but he does and obeys.  
Despite her demand, she remains stiff in his arms.  
He can't blame her. He caused all this hardship.  
"I'm sorry," he says. "This is my fault. I'm responsible."  
She only chokes out a sob in response. He can't sleep, but knows she doesn't either.  
  
**Day 6**  
"When did you last sleep?"  
It's this first time she's heard Mack speak since he's been back. She looks at her tea and he sits beside her.  
"Simmons--"  
"I'm sorry." She can't bring herself to look at him.  
They sit in silence for a long time.  
Finally he asks, "Are you eating?"  
At the same time, she asks not to him, but to everything, "Do you think I'm capable of killing?"  
(Neither mention that she's killed before)  
Mack doesn't indulge her. "It depends on how you're defining killing," he says. "I think you're capable of surviving."  
Somehow, it's not the answer she wanted to hear.  
|  |   
|  |  **Day 6**  
They go to bed early now. Or, if they or Daisy were in a teasing mood, they might say they retire early now. Then they lie there, staring at the ceiling. They don't sleep or talk, they scarcely breathe.  
Despite the few and far between drunken nights, Fitz doesn't think he's ever shared a bed with someone who feels more like a stranger than he does to himself.  
(And, though he can barely think it, Jemma, these nights, is a close second)  
He hates himself for letting her hate him. He knows it's all his fault. He know she's right to hate him. So he lies there still beside her.  
He hates himself, but not enough to let himself feel the way she tenses up beneath his touch.   
**Day 7**  
It's only been a week, even less since he's been awake. But she can't remember when he stopped holding her. She can't blame him, but she hasn't been able to sleep without the weight of his arms around her. It's long past midnight and her eyes burn with a need to shut.  
_I could have killed him_ , she thinks again and again and again. _I could have killed him._  
Logically, she knows it had to have been one of them. If her mind said he should slit his wrists, it meant either he was the LMD, or the part of her brain that was man made was corrupting her. But still she hears her own demands and her own blood pumps too hard, too fast through her veins.  
Her arm glows on top of their covers, millimeters from his. She could touch him. She wants to. She wishes she could. She knows from his breathing that he's awake and wonders if he knows. How much of past memories, false memories found him? How much did he learn, how much has she told him?  
(Does he know that he is now just another name on the list of people she might sacrifice for her own life _HE'S NOT HE'S NOT **HE IS NOT.**_ )  
She wants to ask him to forgive her, to hold her, to let her become lovable again. She wants to feel his hand on her waist, her cheek, her neck--  
Her neck.  
Her neck.  
Her eyes flutter shut.  |  |   
|  |  **Day 7**  
He wakes to her screaming.  
"Jemma!"  
He reaches out for her, but she pulls away. So he does what he's always done and whispers her name until her breathing steadies and her screams subside. She stares ahead, still choking through sobs.  
"Fitz?" It feels more like a question to the darkness than to him directly. He crawls in front of her.  
"I'm here."  
She only looks at him in terror and shakes her head.  
  
**Day 9**  
She nicks her ankle and drops the razor in surprise. It's minor, really. A thin trickle of blood into the water pooled at her feet. Another day, she might think to herself of the chemical properties of blood that allow it to spiral out like some watercolor.  
But she only sees him kneeling before her, bleeding ( _not real_ ) and in pain ( _not real_ ).  
(But she thinks of that first Aida with the fake blood and flesh and muscle, but the pain is still too real. If it's in your head is the pain less real? The pain she caused?)  
The water turns off and a towel wraps around her.  
"It's okay, Jemma," Daisy tells her, and Jemma thinks _I'll finish tomorrow_.  
Only her razor must have fallen from her shelf and is nowhere to be found.  |  |   
|  |  **Day 11**  
He feels a bit bad. He thought he was screaming in his head, but when he looks up, Elena is staring at him with wide eyes.  
“Sorry,” he mutters.  
“Don’t be.”  
“It’s my fault.”  
Elena shrugs.  
“It is. Mack agrees.”  
"Good things go bad," she says with a shrug. "In the end, you just hope you save more people than you hurt."  
He shakes his head. "I hurt all of you."  
"You didn't do anything, but we can talk in circles, if you'd like."  
He looks fights the urge to kick the table. "You don't get it," he says. "It's like...it's like if someone took your powers and used them to hurt everyone, even if you couldn't stop it."  
"So, like me, than?"  
He blinks. He hadn't even noticed Daisy step in behind Elena. He swallows and nods. To his surprise she smiles, albeit sadly.  
"You'll be okay, Fitz," she tells him. "We're all here."  
He's not sure if she means "We're all here for you" or "We're all still alive."  
Regardless, he can't bring himself to smile back.  
  
**Day 14**  
She remembers sitting on the couch. She remembers sitting down on the couch and there was something she was supposed to be doing. She remembers being alone. She remembers starting to cry.  
(She can't remember why, though)  
(Then again, she can't think of a reason why not)  
There's a voice behind her, talking about nothing. The news maybe. And there's something holding her in place.  
"I told him to slit his wrists," she says interrupting.  
Mack tightens his hold around her. "What?"  
"I made him hurt himself. He could have died." She chokes out a sob. "I told him he had to to prove to me he was himself." Mack squeezes her. She's half in his lap at this point and it's the most physical contact she's had with someone in she can't remember how long. Strangely, he pulls her closer, wrapping one arm around her bent knees to pull her fully against him. Like a small child.  
Her silent sobs renew.  
"If you let it out once in awhile, it doesn't build up like this," he says. "I know. And I know it's impossible advice to follow."  
She says nothing, simply letting silent tears continue to cascade down her cheeks. Mack doesn't tell her to stop crying. She doesn't expect him to--it's all she does anymore. He just strokes her back.  
"Being a survivor is all good," he says. "But sometimes you've gotta push past simply surviving."  
She looks at him confused.  |  |   
|  |  **Day 14**  
He's lying still, staring at the ceiling, when her fingers brush against his. He feels her nearing before she makes contact and suddenly her hand has slipped into his own. He rolls towards her, pulling her into his arms.  
"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I love you."  
Her lips move against his neck and he silently begs her not to ask why. He doesn't need a reason for loving her. They both exist and therefore he does.  
But she says "I love you" and he kisses the top of her head.  
"Try to sleep tonight," he tells both her and himself.  
He can feel her eyelashes flutter against his skin as she opens her eyes.  
"I wish I could be as good as you," she whispers.  
He wants to say "you are." Instead he says "I'm not."  
"But you want to be. I think wanting to be good is far more important than just being good."  
"Then you're the best."  
"No, I think I only ever wanted you to love me. Or, at least, I wanted to be loved by you. If I just wanted to know you loved me, not to feel it, I don't think I'd have tried so hard to stay alive."  
He squeezes her tight.  
"I'm trying, Fitz," she says.  
"I know." He runs his hands up and down her abdomen, his fingers catching between her ribs. He doesn't ask her how long it's been since she's eaten. He doesn't want to know.  
He doesn't tell her to try harder. He doesn't want to know she can't.  
They still don't sleep, but their hands against each other still bring some repose.   
**Day 21**  
She has been back in Fitz's arms for a week, but she's still not quite sure if she really exists.  
"Are you listening to me?"  
Jemma shakes her head.  
"I can't help him," she says.  
Daisy slams her fist on the table. "YOU AREN'T THE ONE HURTING HIM."  
Jemma blinks, looking at Daisy for the first time. But she says nothing.  
"Jemma, speak to me."  
She pulls her knees to her chest. She wants them so badly. Daisy. Fitz. Everyone. She wants to be loved by them. She knows they love her, she knows that's true. But that's not enough. She wants be someone they should love. She wants to deserve it. But they deserve so much more than her. They deserve something more than a parasite.  
"You don't get to decide who loves you," Daisy hisses. Then she sighs. "Just because you've decided that watching you like this doesn't hurt us doesn't make it true."  
Before Jemma, Daisy flickers in and out of focus.  
Maybe she's flickering too.  |  |   
|  |  **Day 22**  
He walks into the lab and it's like they're again split between dimensions. She stares at her desk for a moment and leaves. He knows that when night falls, she'll curl into his arms. But during the day, it's as though he doesn't exist. He says this aloud. Daisy scoffs. He didn't even know she had come in.  
"It's not you that doesn't exist."  
Fitz ignores her.  
"You're just as bad," she continues. "Not doing anything but work is as bad as not being able to work at all."  
"I can't watch her keep breaking," he manages, voice cracking.  
"That's just how it is. You break watching her break, she breaks watching you break. You work too much."  
"I'm just trying to fix things."  
"Bullshit. You two are the only broken things here. You built something meant to save people. You're not responsible for the way evil corrupts goodness. That's just life. If Jemma were here, she'd tell you that."  
He can see the way she immediately wishes to take it back. Even if Jemma were there, she wouldn't really be there. She never is anymore.   
**Day 25**  
She knew she need to wash her hair. Last time she'd gone so long without washing it...  
It shouldn't take so much effort. She knew that. She knows. She knows.  
It smells like lavender. It smells like someone. Her, maybe.  
She's just too tired to be her anymore.  
Someone's cupping her cheeks and talking. Maybe to her. Maybe to someone else.  
"Bring May," she hears them say. It's Elena.  
She pulls Jemma forward, wrapping a towel around her.  
"What happened?"  
She bursts into tears. Elena wraps her arms around her.  
Some time later, someone else comes in.  
"What the hell?" Daisy says, kneeling beside her. "May's on her way."  
Jemma just shakes her head again and again.  
"Jemma, what happened?"  
The door opens again and she is pulled from Elena's arms.  
"What did you do?"  
" _May!_ "  
"Daisy, be quiet. Jemma, what did you do?"  
Jemma can only shake her head. She's just so tired.  
"Do you take anything?"  
Someone, maybe Daisy, takes hold of her ankle. She's sobbing so hard she can't breathe.  
"Jemma! Look at me! What did you do?"  
"Nothing," she manages to gasp out. "Nothing, nothing."  
May pulls her close and loops her arm under Jemma's legs.  
"You need a doctor. A real doctor."  
She shakes her head. "No."  
"Yes. Go get Fitz."  
"No!"  
May ignores her. "I'll take her to the car. Go to the lab. Get Fitz."  |  |   
|  |  **Day 25**  
He doesn't remove his lips from the top of her head for the entirety of the car ride. She alternates between sobbing against his chest and being almost non-existent for the trip. He murmurs his apologies into her hair.  
"You didn't do anything wrong," May says from the driver's seat during a brief moment of silence.  
He could have paid more attention.  
"Don't play that game, Fitz. I know what you're thinking. There are some people you can help even when they don't want to be helped. Jemma isn't one of those people."  
"Fitz, I think I'm going to be sick."  
He doesn't question the quickness with which May passes back a plastic bag.  
For a few minutes, she heaves and heaves, but nothing.  
"I didn't do anything, Fitz," she whispers.  
"I know."  
"I wasn't trying..."  
"I know."  
She looks up at him. "But I wasn't not trying."  
He had wanted so badly to wait to cry. But he holds her as close as he can, knowing she'll understand.  
"I know." 


End file.
